


A List of Things You Can Put Into Kevin’s Eye Holes.

by Lilbug121



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Body Horror, Desert Bluffs, M/M, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1574579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbug121/pseuds/Lilbug121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of brief drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	A List of Things You Can Put Into Kevin’s Eye Holes.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this wonderful tumblr post](http://pinkiepiebones.tumblr.com/post/84819416885/a-list-of-one-hundred-things-you-can-put-into).

**Your thumbs, while you kiss him softly.**

Kevin hums quietly as you place gentle lazy kisses along his jaw, the early morning sun just beginning to peek in from behind the bedroom curtains. You caress his face lovingly, from the gorgeous eternal smile carved into his cheeks to the blank entrancing voids that are his eye sockets. He laughs slightly, ticklish and giddy from the affection, love drunk as you are as well, and when your thumbs linger near the corners of his eyes as you cup his face, you feel the sudden urge to go further. He gasps as your thumbs travel slowly into the blank sockets, before sighing gently at the shows of affection.

 

**Strawberries, ripe and freshly plucked.**

Kevin comes home from grocery shopping, bouncing with excitement because “Strawberries are back in season! Isn’t it wonderful?” You agree as you help him bring the bags in, remembering every other time he had come home with similar news. Any flower or fruit coming into season was a cause for his celebration, which made you like it well enough by extension of making your Kevin so extra glad. After putting everything away, he takes out the container and plucks one out, before on a whim turning to feed it to you. You accept, and pull one out to do the same for him when something else catches your mind. You are so rarely silly, but the rare moments you are always involve Kevin. And such is the case when he fills with laughter as he reaches into his eye socket to pull out the purposefully misplaced strawberry and replace it into his mouth.

 

**Tobacco smoke.**

You blow smoke into his face and he doesn’t even flinch, the grey wisps briefly pooling and curling in his empty sockets before vanishing into thin air. You smile and put out your cigarette, before dragging Kevin by his tie into a deep kiss. He restrains himself, though just barely, from rutting against you, as he knows he is being very generously allowed to sit straddling your lap and should be happy with that much for now. You have had a long week, a seemingly longer day, and he is well aware that you are now both in for an even longer night.

 

**Your tongue.**

You press sloppy kisses up his neck and past his expectant lips, desperate to take in all that you could through any means possible. Kevin’s moans turn impossibly louder as you dip your tongue into his empty socket, mostly by accident, and when you realize this you smirk at having found a new way to make your pet tick. You slow your thrusts as you lick the socket thoroughly, and Kevin’s moans soon turn to pants and keening whines as he arches impossibly and tears red bleeding stripes up your back with his desperate attempts to claw out some purchase. Only when his legs begin to shudder and it hurts you to hold back almost as much as it hurts him do you finally relent, speeding to your original pace and jerking him off roughly without warning. He cums hard letting out a string of your name and “so good” and “thank you thank you thank you” but never a swear, no matter what, because what are swears to a radio host but a detriment? You cum soon after, and emerge from your post-coital haze to find Kevin already asleep. You drag yourself up to clean him and yourself off, trying hard not to wake him.

 

**A secret for each eye.**

“I love you more than anything” you whisper, barely above a breath. It sounds simple enough, benign enough. But it is the weight behind the words that force you to near silence. You love him more than anything; more than life, or money, or even Strex and all it’s Smiling Gods. It is a dangerous sort of love, and were it to be made known the degree of devotion it would be nothing short of sacrilege. So you whisper it to Kevin under cover of night fall, while he is asleep and may dream you spoke the loving words, not even into his ears but into his sightless eyes where he may not even hear it.

“I’m scared to lose you” you mouth, not daring to even put any level of sound to this. You needed to say it, submit it to the universe, but it was even more dangerous to think. It was a liability, a major one, and if anyone suspected your interest was anything past a distant fondness and some self-gratification Kevin would instantly become a bargaining chip. So you breathe the damning words into his eyes where no one but the vague idea of the universe may hear it, and hope your secrets are safe in the cavernous voids.

 

**Unfamiliar teardrops.**

Kevin scarcely knows the meaning of sadness; it is a foreign concept to him, identified in his brain only as being bad and generally the opposite of being happy. Most people in Desert Bluffs feel much the same way to a degree; a happy worker is a productive worker, after all. But you are not Kevin, and you are not the rest of Desert Bluffs, and you know the meaning of sadness well indeed. And though Kevin does not fully understand the meaning of the water on your face (tears, you would try to explain were you not speaking to someone who has only know tears of laughter) when you shock awake one three AM from a dream, a horrible dream you dare never to describe and funny isn’t it how bloodshed stops being fun when someone very particular is involved, he does not question why you hug him tightly, one of those “foreign hugs” he finds so amusing that go around the torso and not the neck. And when a few of your stray tears drip onto his face and into his eyes, if he notices he does not say a word.

 

 **Lies**.

It’s not safe, you tell him. It poses a danger to his mental health. And he believes you without a moment of hesitation, saying you’ve always known best. He says this as you pet his hair lovingly, and you force yourself to look into his eager, trusting eyes, glowing ever so slightly yellow diffused among the pearlescent white. He closes them and nestles into your lap, almost like a puppy, and it’s clear that he’s tired, and just about ready for bed. You should be tired too.  You’ve been working just as much. But a strange alien guilt seems to gnaw at your stomach when you look at your precious Kevin, who had loved you without being programmed to, and you feel restless. You tamp it down and force the feeling out. It does not exist in you. You will not allow it to.

“Come my love. It’s time for bed”, and Kevin sleepily nods and follow you. You say in the morning you’ll take him to get them removed.

“If you think that’s best” he reiterates, wrapping his arms around you.

“Of course I do dear” you answer, kissing his forehead, holding him to you and smiling confidently. He falls asleep quickly in your arms, and you frown looking at his innocent sleeping face.

“For the best” you repeat, more to yourself than anyone else.

After all, in a way, not safe for Strex may as well be not safe for him. So it wasn’t really a lie, although that logic tastes bitter and false. You tamp it down.

It’s for the best.


End file.
